Pink Rose – Chapter 1: “Mari”
“Mari…”
The 27 year old sat back in their chair and looked at the 4 letter name on their computer screen, repeating it once, and a soft smile began to form at the corner of their lips. The name was perfect. Her New name. Japanese in nature, it was pronounced “Mahree”, but they knew others would pronounce it like “Mary” or “Marie”. All seemed appropriate and fitting to them. She now had a full name to fit the face and personality she became when the makeup, wig, and clothes all came together.
“Mari….. ??” the name fit, especially when written in certain Kanji. It meant “truth”. While she knew she would never be a genetic girl, seeing herself in the mirror after all this time, this definitely felt like who she truly was.
It was only 10:14am that morning, but Mari had the house to herself that weekend and the hours long conversation she had with the random guy from the cheesy little kink website, Collarme, had inspired her to undergo what she called her magical girl transformation first thing that morning. She very rarely, almost never, revealed her female existence during the daytime. Mari was a nocturnal creature; a nightowl… it felt good to see the sun shining through the curtains of her bedroom window and filling her bedroom with warm light for a change. Her bedroom was such a girly pop-culture shit-show with all the girly japanese anime posters, mini figures, resin character statues, plush toys, and volumes upon volumes of manga covering all genres, all neatly arranged on shelves and nightstands. Pastel patterned curtains, flowery bedsheets, colorful Japanese lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The room didn’t feel like it should belong to a stereotypical guy. But when Mari was dressed up properly.. she felt like she was in her perfect little world inside her bedroom.
It was so strange how much different the world looked when she was in girl mode. The mindset, the emotions, the comfort… it did something to her mind that made her just feel much more at ease. She didn’t feel like she was simply going through life living and existing in the form of the least resistance when she felt her physical appearance matched her emotional and mental existence.
Mari didn’t hate her male self.. she just hated how much time he ate up and how vicious he clung to his physicality. He was big, strong, hairy as hell, and not half bad looking if you liked bear types. He could defuse about any physical confrontation with a tilt of his head and a glare from his eyes. He was masculinity defined.
She, on the other hand, was soft, cute, smooth head to toe, not half bad looking if you liked Japanese gothic l****a types. She could defuse about any physical confrontation with a tilt of her head and a quirked lip and soft smile from her lips. She was femininity defined.
But he… he had the deed to the physiological real estate she built her appearance on, while she owned the emotional foundation everything else was built on.
Mari loved everything her masculine half loved. She loved playing music, she loved cars; she always pictured herself in cargo pants or overalls, a tanktop, and covered in dirt and grime while working on big machines. She loved the same music he did, she loved the same movies.. Mari did everything she could to find common ground with her masculine half. This included her tastes in erotica to a large extent.
When she was 17, Mari lost her virginity to a much older man who was well versed in the ways of bdsm, though he was much more simply into tying a person up and using them. This was honestly what Mari enjoyed though, so she always viewed those early days as her fairytale sex years. Over the next decade, she increased her activity within the BDSM scene, but she found it hard to find trustworthy people who both accepted who she was and her lifestyle interests.
*** Earlier that night***
“How hard can it be to find a person who likes kinky shit and can accept that I only look like a girl sometimes?!?! I’m submissive as hell, I can take a fucking double ended dildo down my throat like a goddamn sword swallower and could probably hide a VW Bettle in my ass!” she had almost screamed at the screen as she scrolled through group after group of alt lifestyle websites online.
A brief moment passed before she began laughing at herself, commenting that the fact she could probably hide a Volkswagon in her ass was probably a bit intimidating to some people.
It was like most nights for her. She sat dressed in a simple satin chemise, bra, panties.. no garter belt or stockings, no wig, no makeup.. visually she looked like a perverted transvestite, but just wearing her sexy lingerie was more than enough to take the edge off the dysphoric disconnection of being male and having sexual urges with the feminine tilt to everything. Site after site she scrolled through before deciding that she had enough. She was certain there were no dominant tops in her city, or even a 200 mile radius, that would want anything to do with her, but she was lonely and wanted someone to even just talk to who understood what she was going through. They didn’t exist in the circles she had been hovering in online, so she searched for a new community to explore.
That was when she discovered Collarme.
The site was cheesy and simple and cluttered as hell, but it seemed to be fairly active. She had never heard of it before, but it’s aesthetic reminded her of the old days of HTML chats. She liked it.
While the signup process was quick and painless, she found herself staring at the one thing she hated the most about sites like these. The dreaded Bio/Intro page. After 20 minutes of start-stop, make a paragraph/erase a paragraph, Mari flopped back in her chair and let out a big groan.
“Intro. Pages. Suck.” she mumbled under her breath and continued to stare at the ceiling until her neck began getting stiff. “Gah.. whatever. I’m not looking for a relationship or even sex at this point. Let’s just say what it is we are here for, shall we?” Mari flung herself back up to the keyboard and immediately set back to work typing up an intro:
~The majority of my interests gear toward playing with makeup and gender bending and pretty pretty pastel lingerie stuff. God-damn I love pretty pastel lingerie stuff. I don’t mind being told by strangers that they would like to fuck me in various ways; heck.. I actually take it as a pretty crazy compliment.. but don’t be surprised if such messages don’t get a response from me. I mainly respond to friendly, honest sounding people who are imaginative and still are down to earth enough to hold a regular conversation. I -am- in a ridiculously long-term relationship; said girl is ok with me acting like a flirt on sites like this. Not ok with me sneaking around on her for sexy fun time. She is okay with me asking her if I can have sexy fun time with others, though. I do like sexy fun time. I like fantasy-sexy fun time. I like talking about sexy-fun time. I have sexy-fun time with a few very close friends. I can go out in public and usually get away with my girlie appearance, but that requires putting on clothes, and I’m a lazy pervert who prefers to just lay around in my underwear and lingerie. Really nice underwear and lingerie that technically takes more effort to put on than regular clothes….. I never claimed my logic was reasonable.. More than anything, I just want friends who are accepting and understand who I am. I would love to have someone to talk to about everything from Japanese anime to kinky bondage stuff to the ins and out of gender bending.~
Without a second thought, Mari posted her intro and a couple of pictures, and then went about getting ready for bed. The usual routine stood; wait for roommate to leave for night job, go wash face and brush teeth, find something cute, sexy, and comfy to sleep in, instigate some kinky fantasy and have a self-pleasure-party under the sheets, fall to sleep. This time, however, the “instigate some kinky fantasy and have a self-pleasure-party” part was interrupted with the sound of new mail arriving.
Someone had already sent her an email.
Someone from her city.
Someone she saw years and years ago on alt.com but never spoke or replied to.
It was 1:00am, but she couldn’t go to bed at this point.
A couple minutes ago she was exhausted and ready to sleep, but now her eyes were wide open and her heart felt like she had been running a marathon. It was someone new; someone near her; they seemed to be genuine in their first message; they recognized subtle details in her profile photo nobody else ever had before.. This person seemed pretty awesome, and they were getting a reply immediately.
5 minutes later, another reply from them.
A conversation had started.
It was now 2:00am..
4:30am…
6:30am…
The conversation already spanned 9 pages, and Mari was not the least bit tired. A soft purple glow was already coming through her window, signaling to her that she had literally been up all night talking to this new guy, and she wasn’t the least bit tired.. Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” came on over the radio, and Mari couldn’t help but to grin as she decided to put her 4th wind to work and she grabbed her makeup bag and ran to the bathroom. Screw the roommate, screw the daylight.. she was excited; she was awake.. alive. Months of dry results in trying to find others like her or who understood what made her tick and understood what she needed had suddenly, very possibly, came to an end.
Mari was alive and well and excited. Her life was getting exciting once again.